Sick Days
by ar-poe
Summary: Reid gets sick and spends his sick day with Morgan. Established Morgan/Reid relationship, all fluff!


**A/N: **This fic was actually a dream I had a few nights ago. My mind is just that nice to me. :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Criminal Minds_.

Something suddenly woke me from an amazing sleep, something I couldn't quite place but it automatically placed a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Instinctively, I tightened my hold around Spencer, drew in a deep breath, and nuzzled my face in Spencer's hair, and that's when I felt it.

"Spencer?" I felt his breath hitch as soon as I spoke.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you trembling?"

"I'm not."

"Spencer. You're lying in my arms clearly shaking."

"You're imagining things." He mumbled, turning his head to slightly bury his face, as if to say _this conversation is over_. I lightly turned him over to face me and leaned over him, an arm on either side of his thin frame, and looked him straight in the eye.

"Spencer." I began with a warning and no-play tone. "What's wrong?" He frowned then, trying his best to sink deeper into the mattress and away from my gaze, his arms pinned underneath me against his chest from where he was laying wrapped up.

"I'm freezing and my throat's sore." He said quickly, hoping I wouldn't catch it. My mind automatically went into over-protective mode and I reached a hand out.

"What are you doing?" He snapped, eyes wide.

"Shush. Lemme see if you have a fever." I placed the back of my hand on his forehead and felt the heat emanating from his skin. "I think you have a fever, babe."

"I don't have a fever. We have to go to work."

"You do have a fever and you're not going to work."

"I have paperwork to do, Derek. And consultations."

"Paperwork can wait."

"It really can't. Let me up."

"I'm calling Hotch."

I heard Spencer groan as I got up from the bed and grabbed my phone from its place on the nightstand.

"Derek, I really don't need to sta – _Derek, do not call Hotch._" I could almost feel Spencer's eyes piercing into the back of my head as I placed the phone to my ear and waited for Hotch to answer.

"Hey, Hotch..." I proceeded to leave the bedroom as I heard "Hotchner" through the ear piece, leaving Spencer in bed with an undoubtedly growing frown as I made my way to put on coffee.

"Spencer has a fever and he says his throat's sore, so he can't come in today."

"It's about time he took a sick day. Stay with him, he'll do what he can to get out of not working." Came Hotch's stern but amused reply. It wasn't every day that the "germaphobic" genius got sick, let alone with flu-like symptoms.

0-0-0

I sat at the kitchen table waiting for Spencer to finish his shower, a cup of soup and hot tea awaiting his return. Finally, the door opened and he softly made his way down the hall, seeming to ignore me completely as he padded back towards the bedroom.

"Babe?" I called, only receiving a quiet _hm..._ in return. I entered the bedroom just in time to see Spencer slowly lowering himself on to the bed – on my side of the bed – in sweat pants and one of my t-shirts. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and buried his head in my pillow. The classic signs of a tired, uncomfortable, and obviously sick Spencer Reid – clinginess.

"You okay, babe?"

"I'm pretty sure there is nothing left in my stomach. And my head's pounding." He replied into the pillow, eyes closed. I sighed and made my way over to Spencer's side, pulling his folded down blanket off the end of the bed on my way.

I laid his blanket over his sickly form and sat down next to him, brushing strands of wet hair out of his face and looking over his almost translucent-like skin and dark circles surrounding his eyes.

"You really don't look good, Spence. Maybe we should go to the doctor." Spencer didn't reply, but I saw his brow furrow in disagreement.

"So damn stubborn." I muttered, climbing my way over Spencer and to his side of the bed and wrapping my arm around his waist to make him as comfortable as possible. "If you get any worse, though, I'm taking you to the doctor."

0-0-0

I woke up from our nap to find Spencer lying next to me on his back, hands entwined across his chest, and lying somewhat peacefully with a wet rag over his face. I sat up and looked around for the clock, wondering just how long Spencer had been awake.

"How do I always sleep through these things?"

"You sleep through everything." Spencer replied with a playful and matter-of-fact tone of voice, never moving.

I looked back down to Spencer as I propped myself up on an elbow. "Why do you have a rag on your face? Do you still have a fever?"

"Migraine. Makes my eyes feel better. Stop talking, you're hurting my head."

I scoffed at his unpleasantness, but I had never actually experienced a migraine and if Spencer is saying things like this, they must be true.

I got up then and made Spencer a cup of coffee and fetched a glass of water and two Excedrin. Once I forced him to down the pills and both beverages, pleased with myself that I had remembered an article I had read in some magazine about caffeine dosages and headaches, I leaned down and pulled part of the rag down and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"You'll feel better soon, babe." And I couldn't help but smile when I saw the corners of Spencer's mouth curl up as I pulled away.

_End._


End file.
